One Day Maybe
by Iph-em
Summary: How will a new development in Emily's life affect the rest of her life and her relationships with the people in it? (who can write a good summary for a story that isn't fully written yet?). I don't own the characters. Rated M for some themes and possible later events.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note**

This story begins somewhere in season 4/5 roundabout there. But it won't really follow the episodes. Haley has left Hotch, but the Reaper won't happen.

**Chapter 1**

It was nearing the end of a long, boring day. Hotch stood at his window and watched his team in the bullpen. He liked to do that sometimes. Not in a creepy stalker way, just in admiration for the camaraderie and ease they had with one another. Prentiss and Morgan were teasing Reid about something. Hotch couldn't hear them, but they were clearly having fun. They were hanging out before they all went home. He envied them that. Hotch didn't really "hang out." His ex-wife had said that before she left; she'd actually used that as one of the reasons. Hotch didn't hang out. Haley had said his job had taken him over; he was cold and distant and couldn't remember how to have any fun. She had said the fun shouldn't take work; if it was work, then it wasn't fun. Hotch didn't quite understand that. In his life, everything worth doing was also worth putting the work in. Hotch wanted to prove her wrong. He wanted to be able to have fun again. Not with Haley, their marriage was over quite a while before she finally left, but in general. And maybe, if it wasn't too much trouble, with another person. Another person with long dark hair who, at this moment in time, was playing "keep away" with one of the film canisters Reid used in his physics magic experiments. He smiled. She could certainly teach him to have fun. He just hoped (when he let himself hope) that she wanted to.

Emily laughed as she tossed the canister to Morgan and reached over to answer her ringing phone, "Prentiss." She smiled at the boys as Reid tried to reach for his canister and missed, with Morgan taunting him. She was unfortunately not paying as much attention to the phone call as was needed.

"Speaking. … Wait, I'm sorry, hold on a second please." Emily looked to Morgan and Reid, who were oblivious to her, "guys, sssh!" she admonished and went back to her phone call. "I'm sorry about that. This is Emily Prentiss. … Oh. I'm sorry to hear that. But I don't understand why you're calling me personally. … What will happen to her? … What!"

Emily's last exclamation caught the attention of Reid and Morgan, who stopped their game to look over at her, checking for signs of a problem. Emily, for her part, had sunk into her chair with the shock of what she was hearing. "I'm sorry. Stop. You're going to have to. Please. I need you to repeat that. Can you start over please?" She was rambling. Emily Prentiss never rambled. When it was work related. Morgan and Reid exchanged a look and stepped closer to Prentiss's desk, just in case they were needed.

Emily looked up at them, not really seeing anyone, just continued her phone conversation as best she was able. "Listen this can't be the best option. I'm not suited to … No, I'm not saying that necessarily, but … Look didn't John have ...? Are there no other options? … No, that wouldn't work. … I see. ... And that's all …?"

Suddenly, Emily stood up like a shot and spoke in a firm voice, "Absolutely not. That is not an option. … Did you hear me? I said that is not an option. 100 % not an option."

By now, Morgan and Reid were concerned. Hotch had stepped out of his office door, having seen the change in her behavior through his office window.

Emily was on a roll now, "Did you hear what I said? No! He cannot be allowed anywhere near… That man is a criminal. I'm a federal agent, trust me, I know what I'm talking about. I am telling you that that man is a pedophile. If you even think about… I will be on your doorstep with a bevy of lawyers before you even write out the motion. … I don't care what he's got. Besides being a federal agent, I'm a Prentiss."

Hotch was intrigued. He never heard Emily trade on her family name before. She often downplayed it or made self-deprecating comments about her family, but that was it. He was quite certain she never used her family's name and prestige to get anything. Something huge must be going on because she was using it now.

Emily continued, "The Prentiss Family Trust commands a lot of influence in this town. My family has open retainers with most of the top tier law firms in this town, no, I don't need a lawyer, thank you. I can walk in to just about any one of them, tell them who I am, and secure killer counsel that will crush any... … Look, I don't generally like to use that, but I will if need be here. So you tell me, what do we do about this?"

Emily was back to looking lost again. Hotch hated to see her like that. He knew her though, now wasn't the time to offer help. He knew her. She needed to process whatever was going on by herself first. Then he would offer his help. She'd say no thanks and struggle for a bit. Then, hopefully, she'd come to him. He would wait.

Emily sat down, it seemed her phone conversation was coming to an end. "Thank you, Mr. Daley. I can be there within the hour. Where is she now? … Okay. Do I need to have a family lawyer with me today? … Okay. I'll see you shortly." As Emily hung up the phone she looked around her, not seeing anything. Such was the result of the giant bomb just dropped in her life. She didn't see Morgan and Reid looking at her. She didn't hear them asking her what happened. She didn't see the junior agents and support staff milling around looking at her. She didn't see Hotch walking down the stairs toward her. She was having trouble focusing her eyes as she gathered up her coat and purse. She stood up and made a beeline for the elevator, leaving the men of the BAU staring after her, wondering.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Hotch was exhausted. He walked through his front door at 10 pm. He had, of course, been at the office. Working. Late. Oh well, he thought, he'd think more about "hanging out" tomorrow. Right now all he wanted was a decent scotch. And maybe a sandwich, though that was optional at this point. He dropped his briefcase by the couch and took off his suit jacket. He looked around at his apartment. It was nice, he decided, but kind of generic. It looked like a page from GQ magazine, without the style. It had no personality. Neither did he, he thought wryly. Or so some people would say. Maybe he should do something about the place, to make it more him. If he was going to hang out, he needed a place to hang out in. Emily could help him with that. He smiled to himself about the kind of things she might put in his apartment. He'd only been to her place a few times, but from what he remembered, it was airy and comfortable. Elegant and lived in at the same time. The first time had been after she quit  
>(to save his job, he added to himself) and he dragged her back into the case. He'd only had a brief glimpse of her front hallway then. The second time had been when he'd driven her home after a particularly trying case. She had gotten hurt, not a lot, but still. He didn't want her to have to carry her own bags that particular evening. He hadn't gotten much further into the place that night either. But the third time. The third time, she had invited him for dinner. Well. Okay, she had invited the team for dinner, not just him. He was there for a few hours, and had had a chance to explore her place a little that night. The downstairs anyway, her apartment was two floors, more of a condo actually. It totally fit her. Effortless and comfortable with elegant, refined touches here and there. Just like her.<p>

Hotch sighed and poured himself a scotch. He took a long swallow standing at the drink cart, refilled the glass and dropped down on the couch. He loosened his tie and sipped his drink. At least no one is disturbed anymore by my working late, he thought. After Emily had left like she had today Hotch was able to put her out of his mind and concentrate on his work. Now that he was home though, he was free to wonder about her. Whatever happened today, he hoped she was okay. She had mentioned needing a lawyer. He was a lawyer; maybe he should offer her his services. Granted, he had been a federal prosecutor and she had asked about a family lawyer on the phone. Though Hotch wasn't entirely sure how she meant that. Did she need her family's lawyer, as in the Prentiss Family lawyer? Or did she need someone who specialized in family law? Family Law usually meant divorce and child-custody. Emily wouldn't need that. Unless she was living a very complicated secret life. He chuckled, not likely. He looked over at the kitchen; he really should get up and make that sandwich. Especially if he was going to have another drink (which he was thinking about). Getting up, Hotch noticed that his answering machine light was blinking. Hunh? Who even called his house phone anymore? It was a cell phone world. He thought about ignoring it, but Haley sometimes called the landline. He really didn't feel like dealing with his ex-wife tonight, but it could be about Jack. He smiled. Jack always did that, make him smile. Okay Haley, he thought, I'm coming. He sighed one more time and hit the button. Whoa. It certainly wasn't Haley. Emily's voice filled his apartment. He was so surprised to hear her that he missed the message she left. Hotch hit the button again.

"Hey, Hotch." She sounded tired, like end of a long case, dropping over tired. "I need to take a few days off. Something's… Oh god, I don't even know how to… Something happened and I need some time to figure out what I'm going to do about it. I'm fine. But… I'm going to have to take some time off. I'm sorry, I know this is, like, short notice. Well, actually it's no notice. I'm really sorry about that. I just need some time. Okay, that's it. Thanks. Bye Hotch." Sandwich forgotten, Hotch picked up the phone to call her back. Something was off. She sounded tired, but she also sounded overwhelmed. Almost defeated, that was not okay.

Across town, Emily sat on her couch under a blanket, a glass of wine in her hand and a far-off look in her eyes. She was thinking. Well, actually she wasn't. She was thinking earlier. She was done now. Now, she decided to let the numbness that had been creeping in, since that phone call at the office, completely take her over. She'd go back to thinking about it tomorrow. Tomorrow, she'd make her decisions. Tonight, she was just done. What is that sound? Something was making noise, Emily didn't know what. It didn't sound like the smoke alarm so she chose to ignore it. She sipped her wine. It was soothing. There was that sound again. Another sip of wine. The sound stopped. Emily remained on the couch, under her blanket.

Hotch was concerned. He'd called Emily three times; twice to her cell and once to her landline. She wasn't answering. Did that mean she wasn't home? Or home but unable to answer the phone? Why wasn't she able to get to it? Was she hurt? In her message, Emily said she was okay. But what if she wasn't? She often put on a brave face. Maybe he should go over there. Just to check on her. Hotch had his keys in his hand before he thought better of it. She wouldn't like that. Emily didn't like other people to think that she couldn't take care of herself. Hotch was torn. Maybe he would just drive over there and see if her lights were on. He could do that. She wouldn't have to know about it, so she wouldn't be mad and Hotch could see for himself if she was there or not. Hotch shook his head and picked up his drink again. He couldn't do that. There were words for people who did things like that. One of them was stalker. He wouldn't do that.

Emily had been sitting and staring into space now for a few hours. A whole bottle of wine gone, and she was feeling finished with the "not thinking." Emily Prentiss was good at many things. "Not thinking" really wasn't one of them. She looked around at her apartment. She'd have to change things. After a deep breath, she began to clean up from her night of nothingness. She carried her wine glass and the bottle into the kitchen. Placing them both on the counter, that's when she noticed it. The source of the sound from earlier. Her cell was on the counter, blinking at her. Two missed calls. She checked it. Hotch. Damn, she thought. He was probably mad about the message she'd left earlier. She had called his house specifically because she knew he wouldn't be home yet and wouldn't get it till later. He was probably calling to chew her out. She sighed; she really shouldn't put this off. She'd have to call him back. Now. Emily hoped he wasn't too mad; angry Hotch was a little scary and she wasn't up for it tonight.

Hotch woke up with a start. Something had jarred him out of a restless sleep. He was sitting on his couch, head back, eyes closed, half asleep, half not. He had unraveled his tie, but not actually taken it off. His top button was opened as were his cuffs, which he had rolled up. In front of him on the coffee table was a smattering of open work files and an empty scotch glass (his third). He looked like a PSA for workaholics. Looking around for what woke him up, he noticed his cell phone was ringing. He answered, brusque with sleep and drink, "Hotcher."

"Hotch? It's Emily." "Prentiss," she added when Hotch didn't respond.

"Emily?" Hotch asked, still slightly confused. He glanced at the clock. "It's 1:30 in the morning. Are you all right?"

"It is? " Emily asked, "Oh, God, Hotch, I'm sorry. I can call back in the morning."

"No, no. I'm up," Hotch assured her, instantly feeling more awake. "What's wrong?"

"You got my message earlier?" she asked. "I noticed you called. I… I'm sorry I missed you, I just wasn't aware of the phone ringing. Or much of anything, really."

"That's okay," Hotch assured her, "What is going on?" He was starting to feel a touch of worst-case-scenario panic. He just asked her twice if she was alright and she was dodging the question.

"Are you mad, please don't be mad. I mean, I understand if you are, I'm giving you no notice and leaving you in the lurch a little," Emily rambled.

Hotch cut her off, "Emily. I'm not mad. What is going on?"

Silence. Emily deliberated on what to tell him. She could give him the bare details of what had happened today, but frankly she just didn't want to get into it. She didn't have the brain power tonight.

"Emily?" Hotch's panic was rising. "I'm starting to get very concerned here."

"I'm sorry Hotch. It's just, …" Emily started, "Honestly, I just can't talk about it right now. You know how when you're in the middle of something and you aren't sure what to do about it, how if you take time out of your mental process to explain it to someone else, you find yourself completely back at the beginning again? I don't have time for that. Does that make any sense? I'm sorry, I'm rambling."

"Yes. You are." Hotch replied, matter of factly. He needed her to convince him that she was alright. If she didn't do that soon, he was going to drive over there. Stalker-label be damned.

"Oh," Emily said. He sounded mad after all. "I am sorry. Is it a problem to have the time off?"

He shook his head and sighed. She was not cooperating with his apparent overreaction. "No, it's not a problem. How much time do you need?"

Emily let out a breath, "I'm actually not sure. I really have no idea how these things work…

"Okay, Emily." Hotch interrupted. He had no choice now, but to be direct, he was shortly going to lose it. "I need you to give me a little specificity here right now. Okay?"

"Okay." Wow, it was worse than Emily thought. Hotch only got that short with her when he was really upset.

"First," Hotch began, "Are you injured or hurt in any way?"

"Um, no?" Okay, now she was confused. How did he get that impression?

"Okay good. Thank you. Second, what happened today that you need to take time off?" Hotch asked her, softer this time. When she didn't answer, after a moment, he added, "You don't have to give me the details, but the broad strokes are necessary. I'm concerned."

"Okay," Emily said. "My cousin died yesterday."

"I'm so sorry." Hotch's response was automatic. "How?"

"He OD'ed. John was… He's had a pretty hard life," Emily volunteered.

"Oh." Hotch was stunned. That was nowhere near what he had been thinking. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry." Hotch didn't know what to say so he said nothing.

Emily felt the silence more than heard it. "See," she tried to sound lighthearted, "Even the Prentisses have skeletons in their closet."

"I'm sure you do." What was that, he thought. That's just great, if Hotch couldn't come up with an appropriate response soon, he was going to end up insulting her. "Do you need time to plan a funeral?"

"No, I…" Emily began and promptly stopped. She really didn't want to tell him the rest and have him think badly of her. She was doing enough of that herself. Screw it. It was 1:30 in the morning and she'd had a bottle of wine tonight. "What I mean to say." Emily took a deep breath, "John has a daughter. Had. Had a daughter. Caroline. She's 6."

Hotch didn't say anything. Everything was beginning to make sense. A Family Lawyer. "That's why you mentioned a lawyer today. On the phone."

"You heard my phone call?" Emily asked, surprised.

"You weren't exactly quiet Emily." Hotch said. He felt like he was admitting to being a peeping tom or something. Emily could do that, make him feel out of the ordinary things.

"Oh," she said, "I didn't realize."

Hotch backtracked for her, "Not the whole thing. But honestly, that's why I was concerned." Hotch though he should downplay here. "I heard you ask about a lawyer and then you said something about a pedophile. You used your family's name. You never do that."

"I… yeah," Emily all but gave up the pretense, "I did." She dropped down onto her couch and let out a breath. "There is some debate over where Caroline will go," she offered finally.

"I see," Hotch said quietly. "What about the child's mother?" Hotch hoped he wasn't prying, but Emily so rarely talked about her family in anything other than a sarcastic manner. He was intrigued.

"Jane." Emily stated plainly. "She died in childbirth. She had no family, grew up in the foster system, so there's nowhere for Caroline to go there. My phone call today; that was a social worker. John and Caroline lived in Oregon. John, he… He cut ties with the family awhile back. Before Caroline was born. It's complicated. That's why it took so long for us to get word here. The social worker is trying to sort out Caroline."

"And they came to you?" Hotch clarified.

"Well. I'm the only family member who was still in touch with John," Emily finished. "Sort of," she added, as an afterthought, "I mentioned it's very complicated, right?"

"You did," Hotch nodded, even though she couldn't see him. And because he couldn't just leave it alone, he added, "You also mentioned a pedophile. What's that about?"

Emily sighed. This was the part. "Okay. John's death orphaned Caroline. As the social worker explained it to me, she only has three options. Foster care, which would be unacceptable. I can't let her go into the system Hotch. Not if she doesn't absolutely have to."

"Of course you couldn't," Hotch agreed.

"No. The second option is John's father. My Uncle James. He is also NOT an option." Emily went on. She could hear the fire in her own voice, so she was sure Hotch could hear it too. To his credit, he didn't say anything just then. Emily rushed through the rest, "James is the pedophile I mentioned. Yes, there is an unsub in my family. We don't talk about it and we don't dwell on it. But the fact remains. Anyway, James was cut off 25 years ago; he no longer has access to family money."

"But Caroline does," Hotch guessed.

"Caroline does," Emily confirmed, "or she will, once she's old enough. That's why he wants her. He's making noise. The social workers, I spoke with two today, Caroline's from Oregon and one locally, seem to think he's a viable option. They like blood relatives."

"He wouldn't possibly be given custody of a child Emily, not if he's been convicted." Hotch was sure Emily knew this; he didn't understand why she seemed worried.

"He wasn't, Hotch," Emily said quietly, "He wasn't convicted. He has no record. They paid him off, the family. Paid him off, then cut him off. The statute of limitations passed and the children grew up, and now he's looking like a viable candidate to take custody of Caroline. After all, he's her grandfather." Emily sounded disgusted, but there was a hint of something else he couldn't quite place.

"You said three options," Hotch continued, "Foster Care, James, and who?"

Emily cleared her throat. "John's relationship with the family, I said it was complicated right? No one ever acknowledged her, Caroline. Or John either, for that matter, once he cut ties. No one else is willing to take her."

Oh, Hotch thought, he understood now. At least partially. "You'll make an excellent mother, Emily," he said sincerely.

"Right," Emily scoffed. "I'm perfect mother-material. I work long hours, in a dangerous job. I can't keep plants alive, Hotch. And now they're gonna give me a child? I imagine children are harder than plants."

"Not always," Hotch quipped, "children can talk."

Emily was not in the mood for humor, or for Hotch to help her feel better; she was on a roll. "My life is not set up for a child. Despite the fact that I've been pining for one for a year or so now, today, with the social workers, I couldn't tell them I'd take her. What kind of person does that make me?"

Emily paused for emphasis. Hotch knew better than to speak right now. "You know what the worst part is, Hotch? I am going to take her. Of course, I'll take her. Not because I particularly want her. But only because her other options suck! What is that about? How is she going to feel?"

Hotch cleared his throat. He wanted to offer some words of comfort, but he knew Emily. She wasn't in a place to hear them right now. So, back to formal and businesslike. "Today's Tuesday. Or it will be when we wake up this morning. Take the rest of the week off. Then we'll reassess your needs. If you need more time, you can take it. Sound good?"

Emily was taken aback. She hadn't expected Hotch to react like that. She could swear he'd been friendly earlier, almost caring. Then again, he didn't call her names and fire her for being such a horrible person. She'd take the win. "Yes, thank you Hotch. That sounds good."

"All right then, I'll see you next week. And Prentiss, don't sell yourself short. Give it a chance, you might surprise yourself." And with barely an acknowledgment of all she'd shared with him tonight, Hotch hung up.

"Excellent," Emily said out loud, to her empty apartment, "I'm going straight to Hell, party of one." She never wanted Hotch to think badly of her, but now, she was pretty sure she just cemented bad feelings between them. Every once in a while, there was a glimmer of a possibility between them. Emily didn't know what that was, or could be. Maybe it was friendship, maybe it was something more, she just didn't know. But it was there, hiding in the shadows. Emily always thought, when she noticed it, one day maybe. Just not now. He wasn't ready. They weren't ready. But now, she felt like she just stamped that possibility out of existence. She just told a man who had to scrape and fight to see his own child, that she maybe didn't want the one being shoved at her. Yep, Emily thought, straight to Hell.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note**

Hi everyone. Thanks for all the follows and reviews; they mean a lot. I'm really glad you're liking this story. I needed something a little lighter to balance out the other piece I'm working on. If you ever have questions about what you're reading, post the question as a review and I'll make sure I clear it up in a later chapter. Enjoy!

**Chapter 3**

Hotch hung up the phone, but couldn't put it down. He should call her back. He was abrupt, almost rude. But, he rationalized, she wasn't in the frame of mind to be comforted. She was gearing up for a fight. It sounded like she'd already fought with herself, and possibly two different social workers today. He wondered, idly, if she'd been talking to any family members about this, or if she was doing it alone. Those were waters he probably shouldn't wade into. He didn't want to just be someone else who'd fight with her. On the other hand, though, maybe she needed that. Hotch put the phone down; if he called back now, he might be zeroing in on that stalker label again. Okay, he decided. He'd wait. Give her a few days to figure it out, get her feet under her again, then he'd call to check in, offer his help.

After basking in that fantasy for a few minutes, he shook himself out of it. Get real Hotchner, he thought, Emily wouldn't need a divorced week-end, sometimes, dad who couldn't sustain any interpersonal relationships of note to help her figure out parenthood. She won't need you. Disgusted, Hotch got up off the couch and headed to bed. Three hours of sleep was better than none. As he drifted off, he couldn't help but think of Emily. Maybe she would, he thought, maybe she would need him.

Emily was lying in bed too. She was not, however, drifting off to sleep. Her mind was whirling; bouncing back and forth from an attempt to be still and thinking about everything she would have to do on the Caroline Prentiss/Impending Motherhood front. It was an uneasy partnership. Caroline would need a school, a pediatrician, a dentist, possibly a psychiatrist. She'd need a nanny or someone to take care of her when the team went out on cases. That would be huge. She'd need to have all of the girl's things shipped across the country. This was a huge upheaval in her young life, she'd surely want to have her own things in her— Emily bolted up in bed. She needed a room, Caroline would need a bedroom. Emily got out of bed and walked down the hall to the spare room she generally used for storage. She flipped on the light and looked around. She'd definitely have to clear it out, but it could work.

Emily got to work. She opened boxes to see what was in them; there was a lot of work to do. Some boxes were unpacked, some were repacked, and some were left entirely alone. She worked through the night, sorting, organizing, and generally cleaning out the room. By morning, she had three piles of boxes and related sundries. The pile to throw out was right by the door. It contained mostly things she hadn't entirely wanted to keep, but couldn't throw away when she moved to DC almost five years ago. Their time had come. She'd get her doorman and maybe one of the high school kids in the building to disappear them for her later. The second pile, in the middle of the room, was for Good Will. She'd call later on and have someone come to get them. The last pile was pushed against the far wall. It was the smallest. That pile was full of things to keep. Emily would find another storage spot for them later. She felt like she'd made good progress. The room would need furniture. And paint and decorations. Right now, it was a light coffee color. Probably not high on the list for a six year old girl. Caroline could choose her colors and themes when she got here. Who knows, she might have furniture that she liked and wanted to keep. If so, Emily would have it shipped. Otherwise, they could buy stuff after she brought the girl home. Who knows what kind, or size, of bed a six year old needed? Emily surely didn't. She could feel the internet calling her. In the meantime, until she got bedroom furniture sorted out, Caroline could sleep in the furnished bedroom (the actual guest room) next door. Probably a small girl would be okay for a few nights in a double bed? That thought was quickly moved into the 'worry about it later' column. She knew people with children she could ask. Hmm. Actually there weren't that many. A few old friends from college had kids, but she wasn't close with them anymore. JJ had Henry. Henry was a baby and slept in a crib. Hotch. Jack was four, or was he five now? Something close to six. Emily could ask Hotch. If she hadn't already offended him by her lack of character, that is. She pushed it off; she'd deal with it later.

Emily had a to-do list a mile long; a list that started with phone calls. She had to call the social workers (both of them), her lawyer, the executer of the Family Trust, Good Will. Oh. And she needed to call her mother. The Ambassador had been notified of John's death and Caroline's situation before Emily had. The Ambassador had passed on the little girl with the grace and diplomacy that comes from a life spent in politics. Yes, Emily heard the sarcasm in her thought. She couldn't be that upset at her mother for not taking her in though. She knew herself, her mother's life was not meant for children. Emily was, however, upset that the Ambassador didn't feel Emily was an option, or even worthy of being notified in person. None of those calls, however, could be made right now. It was too early. 6:30 am. Instead Emily went downstairs to make coffee and get on the internet. She spent the next few hours lost in research about the needs of small children, the problems involved with child-proofing a house, kid-friendly furniture and toys, and looking up schools in the area.

By 9:30, she felt her eyes were beginning to boggle with all the normal, everyday (as in non-serial killer induced) hazards ready to befall a child of six in a regular, everyday home. Shaking her head, she opted to close her laptop and begin her phone calls. The first call she made was an unplanned one. Hotch.

Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner was sitting at his desk. Waiting. He'd been at the office since 6:30 am. He finished all of the work on his desk and was reluctant to start in on the cold cases. From that pile he kept in his bottom drawer. That one he told Rossi he cleaned out last month. Besides, JJ called 15 minutes ago to tell him she had a case for the team. He was waiting for her to show up with it so he could review it. He glanced out his office window. No JJ. He glanced toward his bottom drawer, maybe just one cold case. Just to past the time. He was reaching for it when the phone rang. Thank you universe, he thought as he reached for it. "Hotchner."

"Do you know how many ways a small child could die in my apartment?" Emily demanded.

"What?" Hotch exclaimed.

"I live in a death trap," Emily returned.

"Prentiss?" Hotch asked?

"Can a six year old sleep in a double bed? Should I get bars or something for it?" Emily seemed to be sliding precariously off the rails. "'It' being the bed, not the six year old."

Hotch chuckled, "so you decided to do it."

"I did," Emily confirmed. "There's a lot to do."

"There is," Hotch agreed, "You'll figure it out. We will help you."

Emily didn't say anything. She wanted to apologize about last night. Hotch was tricky though, it might be better to say nothing. The 'ignore it and it'll go away' school of thought. That wasn't really her style though. "Hotch, listen…" she trailed off.

"What is it?" Hotch prompted.

"I'm sorry about last night. Or, this morning really. I guess both." Emily had a tendency to ramble when she was nervous.

"What do you mean?" Hotch asked.

"I was freaking out. I might have been a little insensitive," Emily responded. "I'm sorry," she added sincerely.

"Prentiss," Hotch started, then changed his mind. "Emily," he redirected, "You are never insensitive. Certainly not on purpose. Don't worry about it. You very obviously, and for good reason, have a lot on your mind right now. If anything, I should be apologizing to you."

Emily was confused, "for what?"

Hotch let out a breath. He needed to be careful here. She did not need his baggage right now. Right now she had more than enough of her own. He just needed to make sure that she knew he could be a friend. That if she needed someone to lean on, he was available. All his thoughts about the two of them and their possibility needed to wait. One day, maybe they could still have that. But not now. Now was a time for friendship. Hotch was capable of that; He'd make sure. "I was abrupt. That might have come off as a little harsh. I thought you needed something in your life that wasn't changing dramatically right then and there." He smiled, though she couldn't see that. "I don't know if you've noticed," he went on, "but I can be a little abrasive."

Emily laughed. Aaron Hotchner made a joke. And he called her Emily. She smiled. "I may have noticed that Hotch. From time to time."

Hotch noticed JJ poking her head into the office with the file. He motioned her into the Round Table Room. "Listen Prentiss, we just got a case so we'll be heading out shortly." He had to return to work mode. "I meant what I said last night. Take as much time as you need. Just keep me apprised of the situation."

"Sure thing Hotch. Thank you, really." Emily told him, ready to hang up.

"Oh, and Emily," Hotch came back, "don't stress about the little things. We can talk about bedroom furniture when I get back."

Emily bit her lip to hide her smile, even though Hotch couldn't see her. She didn't want to take the risk of saying anything inappropriate just then.

"Furniture for Caroline. I meant. For Caroline," Hotch tacked on hastily.

"Okay Hotch," Emily decided to help him out. "That would be nice. Henry is just a baby, and JJ's my only real friend with a child these days. Other than you, I mean."

"Good bye Prentiss," he signed off, formally. He was a little embarrassed, and as such, reverted to type.

"Be safe," Emily hung up.

Hotch smiled as he hung up the phone. He was still smiling as he strode into the room where his team was waiting. He nodded at JJ to begin.

"Prentiss isn't here," Morgan commented.

"She won't be with us on this one," Hotch told them. "She's taking some personal time."  
>Morgan and Reid exchanged a concerned glance. Rossi was looking at Hotch with a slightly confused and slightly bemused look on his face. Something was different, he thought. Hotch was still smiling, which for the senior profiler, was a little bit odd.<p>

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note**

Thanks everyone for reading and reviewing and following and favoriting. It's scary how happy you all make me! But you do, make me very happy. I sincerely hope you're all still enjoying how the story is developing. There are interesting things to come.

**Chapter 4**

The team was on the jet, on their way to Susanville, a small company town in northern California. The company, however, happened to be the High Desert State Prison, a maximum security prison. The town built up around the prison. That was neither here nor there for this case. Except that it might change the way Susanville's residents responded to the presence of the BAU among them. Typically, small towns didn't react well to the FBI. Hopefully, the presence of the prison would mean that they wouldn't get a hostile reception when they de-planed. Their unsub was terrorizing the residents with break-in rapes. There were five all together, with the last two escalating to murder. The locals had finally asked for help. Despite the prison, the police force for Susanville was pretty small: ten people total.

The plane would land in about fifteen minutes and the team had just finished going over the case as they knew it. Hotch was handing out assignments. "JJ, you and I will go to the station. Get set up, lay of the land, etc. Rossi and Reid, go to the ME. Morgan and Prentiss, the last victim's house. Okay, we should plan to discuss thoughts on a preliminary profile in two hours." Hotch closed his folder.

"Ah, Hotch," Morgan called.

"Yeah," Hotch looked up.

"No Prentiss." Morgan smiled. Hotch actually looked a little confused. That was funny.

"Right," Hotch said. "Take Reid," he decided. "Good?" Hotch asked by looking at Morgan, then Reid and Rossi. Everyone nodded.

"Since we're on the subject," Reid piped up, "where is Emily?"

Hotch looked at Reid. He didn't want to violate Emily's confidences by sharing the current turmoil of her life with the team. Okay, she never really said anything was 'in confidence' but, he the implication was clear. Hotch certainly knew she was close with the team, but. This wasn't information he was comfortable sharing without her express permission. "She's taking some personal time."

"You said that already, but," Reid came back, "Morgan and I were in the bullpen yesterday."

"We heard the phone call Hotch," Morgan added.

"What phone call?" JJ asked, before Hotch could respond.

Reid and Morgan quickly gave JJ and Rossi the run-down on Prentiss's phone call from yesterday. "What was that about, do you think? Does anybody know?" Rossi asked. "Has anyone talked to her?"

"I called," Morgan started, "but she didn't answer. She'd tell us if something was seriously wrong, right?"

"Yeah," JJ assured him, then thought again. "Well? She might not. You know how she is."

Rossi looked at Hotch. "Do you know what's going on with Prentiss?"

"What do you mean?" Hotch hedged.

"Well," Rossi gave him a look, "Presumably, when she called to take the time off, she gave you a reason?" he prodded.

Hotch was stuck. He opened his mouth to say they didn't really get into it, but the words stopped in his throat. Rossi was still giving him that look, the one that seemed to be saying 'you can't possibly be as dumb as you look right now.' He'd chart a middle course. "She did. I know what's going on. She's fine, she'll be fine."

JJ zeroed in on his poor choice of words, "Which is it? She's fine, or she'll be fine?"

"Both," Hotch was exasperated, "She's not hurt. She'll be back next week." "Probably," he tacked on at the last minute. The four faces looking back at him did not seem satisfied. "There was a death in the family." He hoped she wouldn't be too upset with his reveal.

"And?" Reid asked.

"And nothing. It's none of our business." Hotch came back. As far as he was concerned, the subject was dropped. No one else, apparently, was on board with that plan. Rossi was giving him that look again.

"But Hotch?" Reid pressed, "She was practically yelling. She was talking about lawyers; she used her family."

"She mentioned pedophiles, Hotch," Morgan insisted, "that's not a normal funeral reaction."

"Morgan, she's fine. She'll be back next week," Hotch replied with as much authority as he could muster without sounding like a total jackass.

"Hotch, come on," JJ pleaded.

Hotch stood up, this was making him uncomfortable. "Look everyone. There was a death in the family. Prentiss is fine. She'll be back next week. When she returns, she can fill you in." He crossed the plane to his open briefcase and dropped his file in. "The subject is closed," he dropped the lid on his briefcase for emphasis. Everyone stared, incredulous, for a moment before turning away from him. Except Rossi. David Rossi was still staring at him like he was a dumbass. Hotch had known Rossi for a long time; he was intimately familiar with that look. Hotch attempted to stare him down. That, of course, doesn't work on Rossi. Hotch sighed and sat down again, keeping his eyes on his briefcase.

Rossi smirked. Something was happening there. Interesting, Rossi thought. Very, very, interesting.

Emily made productive use of her morning. She'd made all of her phone calls, except one. She'd called her doorman and Good Will. The doorman would handle her box re-organization; he'd take care of throwing away pile number 1 and let Good Will in when they come for pile number 2. She would need him to do that because she also called the social workers and her lawyer. Emily started the process of adopting Caroline. She made arrangements to fly out to Portland to meet with Caroline and her social worker in person. She had even done some research into schools for the little girl; Emily made appointments to tour four different schools next week. She just finished securing a plane reservation for later in the afternoon. There was only one thing left to do. Emily hadn't yet called her mother.

She picked up her cell phone. And put it down again. She was still a little angry with the Ambassador. Why her mother couldn't see her as a fully functioning adult was beyond her. For crying out loud, the government licensed her to carry a gun, the least her mother could do was relay family information in a timely fashion. Okay, that was the very least of why she was angry. Emily was upset that her mother didn't think she could take care of a child. The Ambassador was one to talk, Emily thought petulantly. (She refused to think of the whiny tone of her thoughts right now as a reason her mother might be right.) Emily's childhood wasn't one she would wish on another person. It hadn't been truly terrible, not all of it anyways. It was mostly just lonely; she was always an afterthought to her mother and less than that to her father. Emily always swore she would be different with her own children. You know what, she thought, that was starting right now. She would be the bigger person here. She picked up the phone and dialed her mother's personal line.

"Ambassador Prentiss's line." Stuart. Her mother's personal assistant.

"Hi Stuart, it's Emily. Is she free?" Emily hoped she didn't sound as tense as she felt.

"I'm sorry dear, she's with someone." Of course she is, Emily thought. This was probably better.

"Can I leave word Emily?" Stuart asked, formally. The Ambassador always liked her formal protocol.

"Yes Stuart, thank you." Emily replied. Protocol it is. "Please tell my mother that I'm taking Caroline. And please also thank her for informing me personally. That was such a nice touch."

Stuart chuckled uncomfortably, "I don't think I will tell her that dear. But I will inform her about the child. She'll be pleased."

"Oh yeah," Emily grumbled, "She'll be pleased as punch."

"Be kind, Emily." Stuart has been with the family for almost thirty years. He knew how things were. "Good-bye dear."

Emily hung up the phone. Now that that's done, there was nothing left to do but pack a bag and head to the airport. Whoa. Emily felt a little light-headed. That really was all that was left to do. She'd get on a plane and then in a few short hours, she'd be a mother. Holy crap. She needed to sit down. Deep breaths. Emily was a champion compartmentalizer, but she couldn't compartmentalize what she was feeling now. She has wanted a child for so long. All of a sudden the dream was this close and she could taste it. She wanted it so badly. Not like this, under these circumstances, but still. She was going to be somebody's mother. It didn't feel real. Probably because it wasn't, she told herself. Don't get your hopes up too high Emily, she thought, something will come along and stop this. You don't get the things you want, remember? Negative thoughts were not productive. Packing was. With that, Emily went upstairs and started pulling clothes out of her closet and drawers. She didn't know how much she'd need. She wasn't entirely sure how long she'd be in Portland before she returned (hopefully with Caroline). She needed a little reassurance right now. She pulled out the big suitcase, just in case.

Hotch was standing in the room the Susanville Police had given the team. He was pretty sure it doubled as a holding cell. It had no windows, peeling gray paint, had an unfortunate smell, and was thoroughly depressing. But it was a space with a table and a white board (brought in especially for them). That was really all they needed. Hotch glanced at his phone. They'd only been in this town for about four hours and already he was getting antsy to finish up and leave. Their skills weren't really needed here. The local police had a pretty good read on their suspect, they just didn't have the manpower and the resources they really needed to actually get him. Hotch hated when his team was used purely for manpower. Hated. It. But. That happened sometimes. The BAU was a resource for all levels of law enforcement. He'd deal with it. But the sooner this case ended, the better. He thought about Emily, wondered what she was doing right now. He sighed.

Rossi looked up from his conversation with JJ. They were discussing the significance of the commonalities among the victims. Morgan and Reid were out with the locals, knocking on doors and generally doing the legwork.

"What?" Rossi asked.

Hotch looked up and around, "what?"

"You sighed," Rossi said.

"I…" Hotch started ready to defend himself, then decided not to bother. Rossi was mastering the profiling game long before Hotch was thinking about it. Instead, he gestured around him, "Manpower and legwork."

"I know. You hate that. You'll survive," Rossi said with a smirk. "Besides. That's not why you're grumpy today."

JJ smiled to herself. She had her own suspicions. "I'm gonna go talk with Chief Rollins about a media strategy if this case goes on for more than a day or two." With that, she left the old friends alone to talk.

Hotch gave Rossi a look. The look that said 'I'm not in the mood for this so quit before you start.' The look that Rossi ignored. "What is it?" Rossi insisted. "Is it Prentiss not being here?"

Before Hotch could answer him, his phone beeped. He checked it. And smiled. A text from Emily.

"Beep of the devil?" Rossi asked, with a smile.

"What?" Hotch was engrossed in his phone; his smile was involuntary.

"Is that Prentiss?" Rossi asked. "Or should I say, Emily?" he added, in a slight sing-song voice. David Rossi was a man who loved gossip.

Hotch scowled at him, but it was too late. He'd missed his mark. Rossi winked at him and exited the room.

Hotch read the text again. _Just checking in. About to get on a plane. Forgot how much a pain flying commercial is._ She was checking in. Hotch liked that. He really liked that.

Before he knew it, he was texting her back: _You should've flown with the team. We're in northern California, Susanville. We could have made a quick stop in Oregon._

Emily's response made him smile all over again. She was making fun of him, he thought. _That'd be an abuse of government resources, Sir._ Emily had a knack for making titles of respectability sound other than respectable.

_What's the plan?_ He texted back.

Emily's response was, again, immediate. _Meeting with the social worker and the lawyer this evening. I'll see Caroline tomorrow morning._

Hotch could hear Morgan and Reid in the outer room; everyone was coming back. He sent one more text. _Let me know how it goes? Safe flight._

He was stilling smiling as the team filed back into the room to work. His phone beeped one more time. _I will ;)_ It took him a moment to understand the extra punctuation was an emoticon. Once he did, he decided he liked this side of her.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Emily was standing outside a very important door. On the other side of the door was Social Services, the Department of Child and Family Services of Portland, Oregon to be exact. Or in other words, the barrier to Emily becoming a mother. Her plane touched down about two hours ago. Emily had checked into her hotel, changed her clothes and 'rested' for a bit. By 'rested,' she meant she tried her very best to calm down and function like a normal human being. She tried to shake off her nervous energy. Emily thought about calling, well texting, Hotch for moral support. Since she told him about Caroline, he's been very supportive. And unusually attentive. When she allowed herself to think about that, it made her smile. But she didn't. She didn't text Hotch after she arrived in Portland. She had to be a fully grown up person and handle this herself. She had promised to check in with Hotch later tonight. And she would. After she met with the social worker and her lawyer. So, with that thought, Emily prepared to go inside.

She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and walked through the door. The two men inside the room looked up as Emily entered the room. "Hello gentlemen," she greeted them.

The taller of the two men stepped over to her and gave her a quick hug. "Emily. You got in alright, I take it."

"Yes Simon, thank you. Everything was fine." Emily smiled kindly at the man. Simon Preston, one of the Prentiss family attorneys. He'd been on the family's account for years, and was also considered a family friend. Simon was in his upper 50's and Emily had actually written his daughter a letter of recommendation for college a few years ago. "Thanks for coming out here for this," she told him sincerely, "I really appreciate it."

"Of course Emily." Simon smiled a fatherly smile and led her to the other man in the room. "Emily Prentiss, this is Mark Daley, the social worker handling Caroline's case."

Emily offered the man her hand, "Pleased to meet you. In person that is." Mark Daley was maybe 27 years old if he was a day. Not too long out of school. He didn't yet have that weathered look that most social services workers got. She could tell he wasn't jaded yet. That was good. That could work to her advantage.

Mark Daley shook her hand and smiled at her. "I'm very glad you've come Agent Prentiss. I've never had a child from a well-off family that has been this hard to place before. That's weird. So I'm very glad to meet you."

Emily dropped his hand. "Yes, well, my family is complicated," she said guardedly.

"As most families are," Simon added. Just a precaution.

The social worker looked from Emily to Simon and back to Emily. "Of course," he said hastily, "I meant no disrespect. I just…that's new for me."

"Who have you spoken to? Besides Agent Prentiss and the Ambassador?" Simon asked. He was looking out for potential problems.

Sitting down behind his desk, Daley checked his notes, "Let's see, I spoke with an Ashton Prentiss and a Marianne Prentiss Moore. Neither said they were an option." Daley gestured to the chairs in front of his desk. Emily and Simon sat down to business.

Emily nodded her head. Ashton was a cousin she rarely saw. She thought he was in France. Then again, maybe not. Ashton was a wanderer. Marianne was her aunt, her father's youngest sister, and the most selfish woman on the planet. There was no way either of them would take on the responsibility of a child.

"So really," Daley continued, "there's just you, Agent Prentiss, and James Prentiss, the child's paternal grandfather."

Emily's smile faded. She steeled her reserve. "I thought we talked about that?"

Daley looked at her, then at Simon, then back at Emily. "We did, but… I mean, I wasn't sure initially what your decision would be. You seemed unsure. So, after our first conversation, I contacted James Prentiss. He seemed surprised, but said he would think about it."

"After everything I told you about James Prentiss? The man should not ever be allowed near young children." Emily insisted. She couldn't believe it. She had given the man the bare facts on James. She had given him statistics and stories about pedophiles and the recidivism rates. Did that not matter?

"I know, Agent Prentiss. And we looked. We investigated James Prentiss. There was nothing to prevent an adoption in this situation. He's relatively clean." Daley sounded like he was justifying what he knew to be a bad decision.

Emily turned her attention to Simon. The attorney, she was almost positive, knew more of the particulars. True, she herself had only given him the bare facts as well, but the man had been on the Prentiss family legal team for almost twenty years. He had to know something. He must have too, because Simon, off her look, made a gesture for her to calm down.

"Mr. Daley," Simon began, "as I'm sure you're aware, my firm has investigators too. We turned up a copy of John Prentiss's Last Will and Testament. He filed one soon after Caroline was born. His young wife having died giving birth to the child, he thought it would be a good idea." Simon reached into his briefcase and pulled out a file folder. "John makes it crystal clear that his wishes, should something happen to him, were that Caroline would never end up with his father." He handed the file to the social worker. "In fact, he's pretty clear that he would prefer the foster system over James Prentiss as a guardian for his daughter. The courts do still take parental intent into consideration in these kinds of cases in this state, don't they?"

Emily released a breath she didn't realize she was holding. She was never more grateful to a lawyer in her life. And because she couldn't stop herself from asking, "Does John specify a preference for guardianship?"

Daley dipped his head into the file, smiled, and looked up again. "He does."

"Who?" Emily knew John hadn't been close with any family members, herself included, and had cut ties before Caroline turned one.

Daley smiled at her. "You," he said simply.

"Me?" Emily looked from Daley to Simon, who nodded. "Why didn't you tell me this earlier?" It would have saved a whole lot of worry and freak out.

"I didn't have the information earlier. One of the firm's interns found it and handed it to me right before I got on the plane," Simon told her patiently.

"This will go a long way for you Agent Prentiss." Daley said. "If there's a challenge," he added as he dropped his head back into the Lawyer's file.

Emily snapped her head around, "are we expecting one? From James?"

"We might be." Daley answered. "I was expecting him earlier in the day actually. Unless he's changed his mind, he's likely to make an appearance."

Emily sighed. She didn't need that.

"We've got a very good case, Em," Simon reassured her.

Emily nodded. Still. A very good case was not an iron-clad case. She'd have to see what she could do about that. "Excuse me gentlemen, do you mind if I step into the hall to make a quick phone call? I'll only be a minute." They both stood up as she exited the small office. Pulling out her cell phone, she hit speed dial three and waited for the call to be picked up. She didn't have to wait long. "Hey P.G. I need a favor."

Meanwhile, in Susanville, the team was still working their case. They had closed in on their suspect and now they just needed to catch him. Which is what was happening now. They were stationed around town, staking out the suspect's most likely places. Which was why Hotch was currently sitting in a car with Rossi, trying desperately to keep his focus on the front door of a bar called The Cell Door and fighting off a migraine. The migraine had nothing to do with the bar or the suspect and everything to do with Rossi. Or, Hotch thought petulantly, it had everything to do with a meddling, needs to learn when to quit, Rossi. The man had been sending him sidelong glances and random to seem subtle (but not really remotely subtle) comments about his current state of mind since they parked their car down the street from this bar – an hour and a half ago. That's quite a lot of not-subtle-Rossi. Hotch sighed.

"You know, there's an easy cure for what ails you not too far away." Rossi said, overly sweet.

Hotch shot him a look, the 'I'm tolerating you, but don't push it' look. "I'm not gonna have a drink with you right now."

"Pity." Rossi smiled. "Cause that's exactly what I meant. When's the last time you had a date?" He needed to get the man talking.

Hotch looked at Rossi. "1992. What's your point?" Hotch was on guard now. This felt more pointed than any of the seemingly random comments.

"How bout I set you up with someone when we get home? I know a lot of nice girls." This was a test. Rossi was gambling on Hotch turning him down. He just needed to get his friend to admit why.

"No you don't," Hotch started. "You don't know any nice girls."

"I'm sure I could dig up one or two." Rossi came back. Hotch shot him a look. "Aaron." Rossi tried a new tactic. "It's not healthy. You're a man in his prime. Divorce is not the end of the world; it's the beginning of a new one. Trust me, I surely know this." Rossi laughed.

Despite his irritation, Hotch laughed too. "Alright fine. You don't need to set me up. I actually have been out a few times since Haley."

"Really?" This was better than Rossi thought it would be. "Anyone I know?"

"Definitely not." Hotch said quickly.

"That was a quick response. Almost too quick. You wouldn't be lying to an old profiler now, would you?" Rossi smirked at him. "Cause if you are, Aaron, there's no need to. It would be good. You and her."

Hotch turned his glare on his old friend. "You say that like you mean someone specific."

"You don't have to hide it." Rossi insisted. "Those rules can be gotten around. Again, trust me, I should know."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Hotch was exasperated now.

"You and Emily," Rossi said matter-of-factly.

"What?" Hotch was surprised. "I'm not seeing Prentiss." He did not want Rossi on this particular trail. The man was like a bloodhound when it came to relationship gossip. Hotch really didn't need that right now. And neither did she.

Rossi gave him a knowing look. "Aaron. I know you've been out of the game for a while, but women don't like it when you deny a relationship exists."

Hotch grunted.

"And really," Rossi continued, "if you're sleeping with her, you really should learn to use her first name."

"I am not sleeping with Emily!" Hotch said, indignantly.

Rossi shot him another look. Okay, he thought, Hotch probably was not seeing Emily, but something was going on there. Rossi was determined to get to the bottom of it.

"I'm not." Unbelievable, Hotch thought. The man actually thought—. No. No way. This conversation stops now. Hotch picked up the walkie-talkie and spoke into it. "Anybody have anything?"

"No, nothing." Reid.

"A big negative." Morgan.

"Nothing remotely interesting." JJ.

Hotch sighed. There was only so much more of being stuck in a car with Rossi he could take. But the sooner they caught their unsub, the better. "Okay. Let's give it another hour and then regroup back at the station." A variety of affirmative responses came back over the walkie.

"Didn't work," Rossi quipped.

"What are you on about now?" Hotch asked.

"I'm not distracted." Rossi assured him.

Hotch dipped his head briefly. Crap.

"Nope. Not even a little," Rossi continued, "Susanville, California. Just an eight hour drive from Portland. Or about an hour in the jet. You're up, you're back, who's to say what happened or why you went."

"For the last time Dave," Hotch was entirely finished with this line of conversation, "I am not sleeping with, seeing, or doing anything of the sort, with Emily Prentiss."

Rossi studied his face for a moment, then a slow grin emerged. "No, you're not. But you want to be."

Hotch kept his face as still as possible.

"Good for you, Aaron," Rossi congratulated, "I stand by what I said. It would be good. For the both of you."

Hotch held his stoicism for a moment longer, then broke. He shook his head sadly. "It doesn't matter. It can't be, not now."

"Why not?" Rossi asked. "I told you, those fraternization rules can be gotten around."

"I know that. That's not all there is." Hotch admitted.

This was progress, Rossi thought. At least Hotch was legitimately thinking about starting a real relationship with their colleague. Rossi smiled at his friend. Kindly, with no attitude. "What else is there?"

"She's going through a lot right now." Hotch stated. "She doesn't need another complication in her life."

"You wouldn't be a complication," Rossi said adamantly.

"Oh no?" Hotch asked. He felt himself gearing up. "I'm recently divorced. I have a child. I'm lacking in human emotion and general relationship skills of any kind. And, oh yes, I'm her boss. But you're right, I'm not a complication. I'm a whole damn stack of them." Hotch hoped he didn't sound as bitter as he felt. Rossi had pushed until he'd broken through. If Hotch was being honest, it felt good to open up about his feelings. If only even a little. He felt relieved.

"Aaron," Rossi clucked. He didn't like the defeatist tone in his friend's voice. "Stop that right there. Yes, you're divorced. So what? Your marriage was over long before your divorce was final. You know it, I know, Emily knows it. Christ Aaron, the whole team knows that."

Hotch was offended for the briefest of seconds, but really, Rossi was right. "And Jack?"

"You actually want me to respond to that? Is Aaron Hotchner really counting his son as a liability?" Rossi asked, with one of those 'dumbass' looks again.

"No," Hotch said quietly. Jack was not a liability. Jack was the single best thing in his life. Jack would never be a liability. Emily would also never see him that way. Emily was great with kids. She hadn't really ever spent any time with Jack, but that didn't mean they wouldn't adore each other eventually. And she was about to have her own child, that meant they'd have ready-made reasons to see each other outside of work. Hotch smiled, then he stopped. She was about to have her own child. That was upheaval enough. She didn't need him adding to the mix right now.

"I saw that," Rossi said. He didn't like how quickly Hotch's smile had evaporated. "Are you worried about the rest of it? Aaron, you are not lacking in human emotion, or whatever it was you said. The very thought is ridiculous. That's not you talking. That was Haley. She thinks that because she doesn't know you. Not like the rest of us do."

"Right," Hotch agreed quietly.

"I never liked her, I'm sorry, but I didn't," Rossi proclaimed. "I mean, she's a perfectly fine woman. Just not for you. She's shallow and selfish. Neither of which, are qualities that match up with who you are."

"Don't be mean," Hotch admonished, but it was a reflex. Rossi was right. Haley was those things. She had other, more positive, character traits of course, but Hotch didn't want to think about her right now.

"Emily's a better match for you. And you're a good match for her." Rossi had changed tactics. "You two do the same work; you understand each other on a level that usually takes years to develop. You both deserve to be happy. Why can't you make each other happy?"

"It's not that simple, Dave." Hotch reminded him.

"Why not?" Rossi came back. "Because of the job? I told you, there are ways to get around that. Hotch, those rules were put in place with the sexual harassment laws and to stop the casual hook-up, not to throw a road-block in front of two people destined to be together. They're there to make you think, not stop you cold. I know you know that."

"Destined to be together?" Hotch asked with an amused hint of a grin.

"Creative license." Rossi smirked. "I am a writer."  
>Hotch chuckled. "There's something else, potentially, that makes for really terrible timing."<p>

"And that is?" Rossi asked.

Hotch looked at his friend, who only wanted to help, and shook his head. "I can't tell you. I'm sorry, but that's final. I just can't. It's not my story to tell."

Rossi studied Hotch. He seemed to be sincere. "Okay. I can accept that. But remember what I said: it's a quick trip on the jet. You're up, you're back. No one needs to know what for."

Hotch nodded. He couldn't really, could he? He couldn't take the jet for a personal side-mission. While Hotch was contemplating breaking several laws and statutes involved with diverting government resources for personal use, Morgan's voice crackled over the walkie. He had collared their suspect and was heading back to the station. Thank God, Hotch thought, as he put the car into drive and did the same.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Emily, her lawyer, and the social worker had been hashing out the logistics for a few hours. They had discussed Emily's job: the danger, the hours, the travel, alternate arrangement options for Caroline when Emily was off on a case, and the changes Caroline would bring to Emily's daily routine. They discussed schools and doctors: Emily told them as much about the four schools as she knew to this point, the tours were set for next week. They discussed the possibility of Caroline seeing a therapist to help her deal with the changes brought on by her father's death and a cross-country move. Daley explained the next steps in the process: Emily would likely be granted guardianship of Caroline in the next day or two. At that point, she would be allowed to take the child back to DC, where her guardianship would be facilitated and overseen by a social worker in the DC area.

The social worker explained that since this was a relative-adoption and not a stranger-adoption, that the whole process would likely be smoother and take less time than normal. There would still be a few home visits by the local social worker, but that Emily could expect to finish the legal process of adoption within six to nine months, and not the twelve to eighteen months the process usually took, provided she still wanted to adopt Caroline at that time. Daley kept using that phrase "provided she still wanted to." It was beginning to grate on Emily's nerves. She understood it, of course. It was rhetorical positioning; the social worker had to keep his language vague until the courts ruled. And Emily had displayed some reticence and uncertainty back in DC. So she got it. Still. She had made up her mind and found her certainty on the plane out here, somewhere over the Midwest. She started imagining all the joys (and anxieties) the little girl would bring to her life. She thought about all she could do for the child. She saw the child going off to school, growing up. She saw the sure-to-be-troubled teen years. She saw slumber parties and boys, heartbreak and triumph. She wanted it. She wanted it all.

Daley was staring at her now. So was Simon. Oops, she must have missed a question. "Um, what…What?" she asked.

"I just asked," Daley repeated, "if you've been in regular contact with John and Caroline. When was the last time you saw the child?"

Oh. And just like that, her fantasies and daydreams evaporated into nothing. "It's been awhile," Emily admitted. Then she added, guiltily, "I haven't seen her since she was an infant."

"Oh," Daley said, still looking at her. Clearly, he'd been expecting a different answer.

"Will that be a problem?" Emily asked.

"Perhaps," Daley hedged, "it depends on a variety of factors."

"Such as?" Simon asked.

"What the circumstances were, whether anyone else in the family has been in more contact with her. A lack of contact sometimes makes a relative-adoption a little harder," Daley told them. "But it's not insurmountable."

"We're quite certain James Prentiss hasn't had contact with the child." Simon stated the subtext of Daley's explanation.

"That…that will certainly help," Daley responded, shakily.

"Mr. Daley," Emily began, "John had a rocky relationship with the family growing up, as I've mentioned. After Caroline was born, he didn't want her to be anywhere near that. Or near his father. The pedophile. So they moved across the country and started new. I tried to respect that, so I didn't force myself into their lives. I made sure Caroline was added to the family trust. John rarely made use of it, but for his daughter… I made sure she'd be taken care of. He sent me their new address shortly after they moved. I sent gifts periodically: birthdays and Christmases. John and would trade a phone call or an email a few times a year, maybe. But I tried not to be intrusive, the way John wanted it." Emily was starting to get a little panicky. She sincerely hoped it wasn't showing.

"You sent gifts?" Daley asked.

"That's right," Emily answered.

"What kind of gifts?" he was probing for something.

"Toys, books, clothes. Things like that, just gifts," Emily wasn't sure where he was going with this.

"Did you ever send money? Or actual cash?" Daley asked, what sounded to Emily, like a pointed question.

"A few times, over the years, here and there. When John asked," she said carefully. The way the social worker was looking at her was putting her on edge. It was almost as if he thought she was trying to buy the child. Or maybe her rising panic was making her a touch paranoid.

"Agent Prentiss," Daley began, and then promptly stopped. After a brief pause to reformulate his thought, he started again. "Emily. How do you imagine John and Caroline's lives played out here in Portland?"

"I'm sorry? I'm not following you." The edge just got a little sharper. Emily didn't have the slightest idea what the man was getting at.

"Perhaps a little clarification would help," Simon prodded.

Daley looked from Emily to Simon and back again. She noticed he had a habit of doing that. Emily wasn't sure if he was reassuring himself, checking his perceptions, or if it was just a nervous habit.

"Of course," Daley said slowly to Simon, then directed his comments to Emily. "You say that you made sure Caroline would be taken care of. By way of the Family Trust. You sent gifts, had occasional communication with John, but never got into their lives. Agent Prentiss, when John Prentiss died and we were called in to take custody of the child, … I don't exactly know how to tell you this, but, the conditions they had been living in… It was quite clear that John was not taking good care of his child. Or of himself. If we had, for any reason, been called in earlier, when John Prentiss was still alive, we would have removed the child from the home." Daley finished and sat watching Emily for a reaction. For her part, Emily didn't show a reaction; she just stared right back. Her training kicking in. She needed a moment to process this new information and catch up.

"That's why, after finding the extended family," Daley continued when Emily didn't speak, "I was so pleased to discover that Caroline could, in fact, be better taken care of. That her family had the means to support her. And then, of course, she's been so hard to place. This case has been something of a roller coaster."

The social worker hadn't taken his eyes off of her since Simon had prompted the story. Emily knew she needed to respond, but the only thought in her head right now was 'how did I miss that?' Taking a deep breath, she pushed that thought to the side and instead made a defensive statement. "I wasn't aware of that. I can't be held responsible for knowledge I had no way of knowing. Caroline shouldn't be penalized for that either." The problem was, Emily did have a way of knowing their situation. She simply distanced herself because it was easier. And told herself it was what John wanted.

Simon put his hand on her arm. "No one is blaming you. Mr. Daley is just vetting. Isn't that right?" Simon directed his question to the social worker, who quickly backpedaled.

"That's right. Of course it's right," Daley stammered. "I'm just trying to work out the relationships. Agent Prentiss, did you know that John was using drugs?"

Emily swallowed. She did know that. Or, more accurately, she knew that he had in the past. And given the way he died, she supposed she did realize that he hadn't completely stopped. She swallowed one more time and looked the social worker in the eye. "Mr. Daley. John had a hard life. His father is a pedophile; he is a sexual predator of children. I'm a Federal Agent now. I track serial killers and pedophiles. It is entirely likely that Uncle James also preyed on his own child. I was just a child myself, I couldn't possibly know that then. But now, doing what I do in the world in which I do it. I am absolutely certain – James Prentiss molested his son. That son grew up under a cloud of shame and guilt and fear. When he was able, and prompted by the birth of his own child, he moved far away from everything he knew. But before that happened, he turned to drugs and alcohol, as many victims do, to dull the pain and the memories.

Soon after he moved out here, he called me. He was in bad shape. He was scared and he wanted to get clean. For Caroline. I paid for his rehab and I took care of Caroline while he was recovering. That was the last time I saw her. She was about a year old. John came back from rehab a different man. He said he wanted to stand up and take care of his own affairs. I took him at his word. He never gave me any indication that he was using again." Emily sighed. She should have kept better tabs.

For about a minute and a half, no one spoke. Simon squeezed her hand again, in reassurance. Daley blinked his eyes, as if clearing out the cobwebs, and then smiled at her. He was the first to speak. "Okay. I just needed to know the circumstances. I don't think anything drastic has changed. I just need to ask." Again, Daley looked from Emily to Simon and back to Emily before asking his question. "Agent Prentiss, are you fully prepared to take custody of the minor child, Caroline Prentiss? To care for her and provide for her financially, psychologically, and emotionally? To feed her, educate her, clothe her, and see that she has sufficient medical care?"

Emily blinked her eyes. That turned around fast. "Yes," she said quickly, "I am."

Daley smiled one more time, then stood up. Emily and her lawyer joined him. "Okay then," Daley said amiably, "I'm prepared to move forward with this. We'll start the proceedings in the morning. Let's reconvene here at 9:00 am. We'll reintroduce you to Caroline. How would that be?"

Emily tried not to let her smile take over her whole face. "That would be great, thank you." She reached out to shake his hand.

At that moment, they heard a knock on the door and a few seconds later a man walked through it. He was an older man with graying hair and wire-framed glasses. He had an athletic look about him that made him appear younger than he really was. "I'm sorry," he said, "I'm late. I'm here to discuss custody of my grand-daughter. I'm James Prentiss."

Emily dropped her hand from Daley's like a shot.

While Emily's past was walking through the door in Portland, down in Susanville, the team was trying to close the door on their case. The unsub was sitting in the interrogation room, stewing. Hotch wanted them to have just a little more information before they broke him. So they could get out of this tiny, tiny town and get back to doing what they do. And if Hotch were being honest, he wanted this case to be over so he could take that side trip up to Portland. He hadn't been able to stop thinking about it since Rossi mentioned it. Seeing Emily would help him get over his frustrations from this case. And if he could help her out at all, that would be a bonus. He couldn't take the jet, that was a non-starter; but he could book a commercial flight and be there almost as quickly. He sighed.

Rossi looked up and smirked at him. "Something wrong, Aaron?"

Hotch glared at the smug profiler. "Someone call her."

"Her?" Rossi teased.

Hotch kept up his glare. Rossi was clearly working the Emily angle. That was not a good idea right now. In a room full of trained profilers. "Garcia. Someone call her. We can't move forward without the deep background from her."

"Because if you have to wait any longer, it's possible your glare will burrow far enough into your head that it will explode?" Reid asked with a smile. The team exchanged awkward smiles as Hotch turned his glare on Reid. Spencer Reid did not do jokes well. Reid's smile withered into an embarrassed "because the…nevermind, I'm sorry. So, Morgan, call her. Call her now."

Morgan chuckled. "Ok kid." Morgan hit his speed dial and turned on the speaker phone. Soon enough, a familiar voice brightened up the mood.

"What do you need Chocolate Drop? I love ya like lava, but I'm involved here" Garcia's voice burst into the room.

"Hey mama, you working on that deep background for Robert Strong?" Morgan asked.

"Robert Strong?" Garcia asked.

"Our unsub," Hotch prompted. "We can't move into interrogation without it."

"Oh. Right. Um, see," Garcia stammered. "I, uh, haven't gotten to it yet Sir."

"You haven't? Why not?" Hotch asked, a bit sharply. He absolutely did not want to stay in this town a moment longer than necessary.

"I'm sorry Sir, really. I got sidetracked with—." She cut herself off. "It doesn't matter. I'll get right on it, I promise. I'll be back in a few shakes of a lamb's tail. Garcia out."

"Whoa there, mama!" Morgan stopped her from hanging up. "You got sidetracked with what? What is going on right now that is more important than our case?"

"I can't Derek. Sir, are you still there?" Garcia asked.

"I'm here," Hotch acknowledged.

"Can you take me off speaker phone?" she requested. Everyone exchanged glances. Garcia only asked for that on sensitive cases. This case was not that.

Hotch grabbed the phone off the table, turned off the speaker, and walked a few steps away. "Garcia? What's going on?"

Penelope took a deep breath and launched into it. "Prentiss called before and asked me to look into something for her. I've been doing that. And sir, it's taken a turn. When she called me, she said you knew what was up. Do you? Do you know what she's doing in Portland? She didn't really tell me, so I don't have a lot of context for what I'm doing and now I'm getting more and more concerned. When I spoke to Morgan before, he said she was at a family funeral. That doesn't really jive with what she asked me for, or what I found."

"Garcia, calm down. Let's take this one piece at a time," Hotch soothed. Garcia's nervousness had made him a little nervous. "First, what did she ask you to do?"

"She wanted me to dig up any information I could find on a man named James Prentiss. Financial records, locations and moves, criminal records. She asked me to pay special attention to any abnormalities or incidents with children. He's her uncle, Hotch. And, well, I found a trail." Garcia was precariously close losing it a little. "Morgan said she was at a family funeral, but this guy is still alive. And Hotch? He boarded a flight to Portland earlier today."

Hotch looked up at the ceiling and closed his eyes. This was not shaping up well. "How close to finishing up the favor are you?" He asked.

"I'm pretty much done," Garcia told him. "I was just going to do one more search, then send her what I found. But I'm worried now, sir, what's going on?"

"I'll take care of it," Hotch assured her. "Go ahead and send Prentiss what you found. Send it to me too. Once you've done that, I really need you to pull together the info on Robert Strong so we can finish up here. Okay?"

"Yes sir," she said, then added, "you'll take care of my gumdrop?"

Despite his current train of thought, Hotch smiled, "yes Penelope, I'll take care of your gumdrop."

Hotch could almost hear her smile. He turned back to the team. He couldn't tell them what that was about. They were going to hate it. Nobody liked it when Penelope was distressed. Tough, Hotch thought. They'll all be in the loop soon enough. "She's send it to us momentarily. In the meantime, let's just get started. Morgan and JJ, take the interview. Rossi and I will watch. Reid, nail down the geographical profile, make sure we didn't miss anything." His severe look told them all not to question what had just happened.

A few minutes later, his phone beeped. Garcia had sent him the file she was compiling for Emily. Ten minutes after that, she sent them the file on their unsub. Half an hour later, they had him dead to rights and Hotch could take a few minutes to look over Emily's file. Five minutes into that file he called Garcia back. "Garcia, put me on the next flight to Portland."

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note**

I know some of you are anxious to meet Caroline. I promise we will meet her very soon. Possibly in the next chapter, but definitely by the one after that.

I hope you enjoy!

**Chapter 7**

Emily couldn't move. She felt rooted to the floor. It had somehow, during the past couple of days since everything had happened, never entered her mind that she would come face to face with her estranged Uncle. Long-ignored memories came roaring back at her. With them, the feelings and thoughts she had compartmentalized. Emily couldn't move; both Simon and Daley had looked to her upon James' entrance, but she could not move.

James, however, seemed oblivious to the tension in the room. He continued to speak, "I'm looking for a Mr. Mark Daley."

Daley cleared his throat and stepped out from behind his desk. "That's me," he said, "I'm sorry Mr. Prentiss, but it appears I contacted you in haste."

James frowned, "in haste? When we spoke you told me my grand-daughter had nowhere else to go. I'm family and I will take her."

"I'm sorry Mr. Prentiss," Daley said nervously, "I was able to make alternate arrangements for Caroline that I think will be a better fit for her. I'm sure you can understand."

"Actually, no. I don't understand. You said no other family members were able to take her in. What has changed in two days?" James demanded.

Emily took a deep breath and turned around, coming face to face with her Uncle for the first time in almost 30 years.

James stared at her. He started to say something, but stopped himself, waiting for Emily to speak first. When she didn't, he changed tacks, "Emily? It's been a long time, but I'd know you anywhere." He looked her up and down, as a predator gauging his prey, before adding, "You were always a beautiful child. I see that hasn't changed."

Emily choked down her revulsion. "James." She couldn't bring herself to call him 'uncle.' "There's been an oversight. You don't need to trouble yourself. I will be happy to take care of Caroline."

"It's no trouble Emily," James said, smiling at her, "She's my flesh and blood, after all."

James made a move toward Emily; he reached for her, to take her hand or to hug her, Emily wasn't sure, but she recoiled from him as if he were made of poison. "Don't touch me! And you won't touch John's little girl either. He didn't want you anywhere near her when he was alive, and you will not get anywhere near her now that he's dead. I'll see to that." Emily crossed her arms over her chest and stared him down.

James, for his part, barely blinked. He simply lowered his arm and put his hands in his pockets. Like this was an ordinary family reunion. "I'm her grandfather Emily. Surely you know how important that particular bond is. Why shouldn't Caroline get to have that? You did."

"There's a difference," Emily spat out, "My grandfather didn't molest little girls."

James hardened his eyes, but kept his composure otherwise. "I'm not here to revisit old family drama with you Emily. That was a made-up story and you know it. It caused enough trouble then. I will not allow you to dredge it up again."

"You won't allow me?" Did she hear him correctly?

"No, Emily," James stated calmly.

Emily laughed, "You won't 'allow' me to dredge it up again?" Emily asked incredulously. "That's funny. It really is. What exactly gives you the right to 'allow' me to do, or not do, anything? I'm not eight years old anymore." This man was good, she thought.

James was calmly standing in the center of the room. Shooting Emily a patronizing smile, he turned to Daley, with confidence, and asked, "So, let's get down to business. What do we do to finalize my adoption of Caroline?"

Emily huffed and shifted her weight. 'Over my dead body,' she thought. 'Or better yet, over yours.'

"Excuse me, Mr. Prentiss," Simon stepped in. Emily was having trouble finding her voice in any kind of useful and productive way. She was, again, very grateful to her lawyer. "I'm Simon Preston. I believe we've met before. I'm on the Prentiss family legal team." He wanted the man to know that Emily was not here on her own.

"Oh, you're my lawyer? I didn't call you," James said snidely.

"No, I'm not here representing you." Simon corrected.

That seemed to move something in Emily. "Do you know what I do now James?" she asked.

"Emily, please dear," James responded, "it's 'Uncle' James." He spoke as if he were correcting a child. "She used to have such good breeding," he said to Daley.

It took everything Emily had inside her not to wipe that smirk off his face right then and there. She managed to contain herself with some effort. "James," she said pointedly, "do you know that I'm a Federal Agent now? I work for the FBI. I'm a profiler with the Behavioral Analysis Unit. We hunt serial killers, pedophiles, arsonists, the worst of the worst really." She wasn't really asking him. She was telling him, with a veiled threat. The threat being that she would have him arrested if he pressed this too far. And just in case the veiling was too subtle for him, she added, "I could ask my team to look into all that old, what did you call it, 'family drama.' I will not 'allow' you," throwing his own wording back at him, "to get anywhere near Caroline."

James studied her, more honestly this time, without the predatory impulse. He seemed to age in that moment, Emily thought.

"Emily," he began, "it was a misunderstanding. You were young, you're not remembering what really happened." He almost sounded like he was pleading with her. "You remember what you've been told. Your mother never liked me, Emily. She sold you a story, and you bought it."

"Oh, please," Emily sneered at him, "No one would make something like that up as a bedtime story for their kid. You are what you are. You know it, and I know it."

"Emily, I am truly sorry if I scared you that day, but you are remembering wrong. Childhood memories fade and the mind fills in the gaps with whatever else it has heard. You're the big, fancy profiler now. I'm sure you know that that's true." James had slowly, inch by inch, moved closer to Emily as he spoke. "I tried to come back and speak with you about what happened the next day, but your mother's bodyguards wouldn't let me through the door. The Ambassador spoke, and the fire curtain of the diplomatic corps dropped down around you and I never saw you again. Your mother took you away with her to a post in Saudi Arabia a week later." He was practically right up against her now. "Do you remember that?" James asked, putting his hand on her upper arm.

Without thinking, her training kicking in, Emily grabbed his arm, the arm that was touching her, and spun him around behind her. She pushed him into the wall as if she were going to cuff him. "I'm pretty sure I said NOT to touch me." She gripped him a little harder and pressed him into the wall one more time before letting go and backing away. "Mr. Daley," she said, switching gears, "I'll have documentation on James Prentiss being unfit to adopt tomorrow morning at nine. I believe we're done here."

More than anything else right now, Emily wanted to bolt from the room. But Simon stopped her, with a cautionary hand on her wrist. He gave her look. He wanted James to leave the office before they did.

"That will be all, Mr. Prentiss," Simon said to the man while gesturing toward the door. "This meeting is over."

James was rubbing his arm where Emily had grabbed a hold of him. It was turning red. "We're not done, Emily. I'll be back in the morning too." With a nod and a smile to Daley, James Prentiss left the room. Emily released a breath.

"Wow," Daley gushed. Simon and Emily turned their heads to him. Daley blushed, "I'm sorry. Nothing like that has ever happened in my office before."

Emily laughed, a tension-releasing laugh. "It wasn't planned.

The team, having closed their case, was on the jet flying home. Without Hotch. He had told them he would see them back in DC in a day or two as they were checking out of their hotel. With a "Good for you, Aaron," and a look from Rossi, nobody said anything then. Now that they were on the jet, Rossi's moratorium no longer held.

"It could just be another case," Morgan speculated.

"Then why wouldn't he take us with him?" Reid questioned. "Or tell us about it?"

"I think it's personal," JJ posited.

"What makes you think that?" Morgan asked her.

"Think about it," she said. "He's been acting weird. He's been incredibly close-lipped, even for him. When does he do that?"

"When it's about his personal life," Reid agreed. "Do you think it's Haley? Is there something going on with Jack, maybe?"

"I don't think so," JJ came back. "When something's going on with Haley, he gets mad. He hasn't been angry, so much as touchy and frustrated. I think it's something else."

"Or someone else." Morgan commented.

"Go on," JJ prompted.

"Think about it. Earlier tonight with Penelope? She only gets squirrelly like that for two reasons. When our unsub is one of the local LEOs, or when one of us is in trouble," Morgan declared. "It could be that."

"But we're all fine," Reid insisted.

"Who's not here, kid?" Morgan prompted.

"But," Reid shook his head, "Emily's at a funeral. That's upsetting, but it doesn't mean she's in trouble."

"Unless it's not a funeral," Morgan came back.

"Why would she tell us she was at a funeral if she wasn't? That doesn't makes sense. She woudn't do that," Reid shook his head again. He was certain she wouldn't lie to them.

"She didn't actually tell us that, did she?" JJ questioned. "She didn't tell us anything. She just wasn't here."

"Hotch told us it was a funeral," Morgan finished.

"So whatever it is, they're in this together," JJ reasoned.

"Yeah?" Morgan asked.

"Yeah," JJ answered with a smile.

"You think?" Morgan asked again.

"Maybe?" JJ answered with a question of her own. She wasn't sure about anything, but she had her suspicions.

"Hmm," Morgan exhaled. "Interesting."

"What are you guys talking about?" Reid was exasperated. He hated when people did this around him. He really needed to get better at this particular brand of social cue. Maybe there was a class he could take.

"Never you mind, kid," Morgan chuckled at him.

"We'll tell you when you're older Spence," JJ was chuckling at him too, at the look of frustrated consternation on his face. He really was one of the sweetest, most innocent things on the planet, next to Henry, of course.

Rossi smiled to himself, behind his book. He had been listening to his colleagues wonder. He could have filled in a few of the questions for them, but he decided not to. Aaron and Emily deserved to have this secret for a little while longer yet. At least, he reasoned, for the time it took to get things started. Rossi really hoped his friends could get it together long enough to find something special between them. If that was, in fact, why Aaron had gone to Portland in the first place. He smiled another self-satisfied smile. David Rossi was going to think romance was in the air until someone told him otherwise.

Emily had been sitting, unmoving, on her hotel room bed for almost half an hour. She had left Daley's office with another promise to have irrefutable proof of James' unfitness by the morning. She had let Simon reassure her that it would all work out downstairs in the lobby. Simon had gone up to his room, and she had gone to the hotel bar for a nightcap. But it was crowded. She didn't really want to be around other people right now, so she called room service for a wine delivery. It arrived about half an hour ago. She was still holding it; hadn't even uncorked it yet, that's how much she was seething right now. How dare that man? James just waltzed in and steamrolled right over his history. Their history.

The moment was arriving, Emily knew. The moment where she would have to say out loud what that shared history was. It was arriving, she thought, but not yet here. Meanwhile, she had some research to do. Garcia had sent her a file on dear, sweet, Uncle James earlier in the evening, but she hadn't had a chance to look at it yet. Emily got to work. First things first, she uncorked the wine and poured herself a glass. Then she pulled out her laptop and opened Garcia's file. Garcia had pulled together an impressive view on the man's life. She had the documentation, such as it was (and it wasn't much) on the act that forced the family to cut him off. Emily realized that though her own name was never mentioned on those two documents, the Ambassador's was, and Garcia would read into them. She sighed; she'd definitely need to have this conversation with the beloved technical analyst. Just not today. Emily read those two documents quickly; she already knew what they were. Next she poured over narrative accounts from various sources about sketchy conduct involving James Prentiss. There was a lot of it over the years, but nothing was definite or irrefutable. A possibly inappropriate soccer coach. A man providing minors with alcohol at the Country Club. A man walking his dog by an elementary school who may or may not have exposed himself to children. A strange man telling stories to children in the park. There were a lot of these in the years immediately following the family cutting him off financially. Together, they made the beginning of a circumstantial case, but not much more. Emily could spin that convincingly. Garcia had done a lot of work though. For each of these instances that she'd flagged, she also made notes of James Prentiss' whereabouts and connection to the incident. Most of it was just speculation; he was never a full suspect, only a person of interest in one of the instances. He was actually a witness in two. Some witness, she thought. She wondered if Hotch would be receptive to her looking into the man's life a little more thoroughly. If James continued to be a problem, that is. Probably. She might have to tell him everything though.

Speaking of Hotch, Emily had promised to check in later. It was officially later, she just didn't know what to say. 'Hi Hotch, how's your case? Things are great here.' She'd like to say that, but she couldn't. It wasn't true and he would never let her get away with that. If she wanted his help with James, she'd have to start letting him on the family secret. Emily sighed. She'd just test the waters. She picked up her phone and dashed off a surprisingly quick text. She smiled, then shrugged. He'd make of that what he would. Emily decided that she'd hand over Garcia's file to the social worker tomorrow (she'd emailed a copy to her lawyer as soon as she'd opened it herself). And then, if James remained a problem, she'd bring Hotch into the loop. Smiling to herself, Emily opened the next document in the file. She started to read through it, and again, felt the revulsion wash over her. It was somewhere during her second perusal of this document that she heard a knock on her door.

Hotch was standing outside Emily's hotel room door questioning his presence there. He had gotten himself a room in her hotel, dropped off his go-bag, freshened up, and searched out her room like a man on a mission. Now, however, he was reticent. He felt 100% justified in coming up here; that wasn't what he was questioning. No, instead, he was kicking himself because he hadn't called first. Emily didn't really react to these types of surprises well. She didn't like being ambushed or confronted on her personal life. Hotch didn't feel that he was ambushing her, but he was afraid she would. She had opened up to him about what was going on. A little bit. He knew there were giant chunks of the story she'd hadn't told him, maybe would never tell him. She had let him in, partially, but didn't ask for his help or fully invite him in. He could chart an alternative path and tell her that this was case now and he was obligated to look into it. But you didn't do that to friends. Not without warning. And not with a friend that he, maybe, wanted to have something more with, one day.

He was standing a few steps away from her door (in case she looked through the peep hole; he didn't want her to see him just standing there) going back and forth on what to say when he did, finally, knock on her door – because he was certain that he would – when his phone beeped. He looked down and smiled. A text from her. _Hey Hotch. Finally done for the night. Things got a little more complicated, but nothing to worry about. I'm handling it._

Hotch frowned. Was she not going to tell him? He thought they were past the subtle obfuscations. He decided to nudge her a bit, and sent off a text of his own. How she responded would dictate his course of action.

Inside the room, Emily was reading Hotch's text. She didn't quite know what to make of it. _More complicated? I'd agree with that assessment. Garcia sent me the file she built for you_. Crap. She was going to have to tell him. Sooner rather than later. Emily knew Hotch. He wouldn't be able to just sit on this. She was contemplating her reply when her phone beeped with one more text. _Are you alright? How are you handling this?_ Emily snorted and sent her reply before she could think better of it.

Hotch was feeling anxious. She didn't reply right away so he had sent a second text. He wasn't sure about personal texting etiquette. Was that okay? He didn't want her to feel pressured. He was considering sending an apology text when she finally replied. _I'd say not so well. Considering James tried to touch me tonight and I put him into a wall. :(_ Oh Emily, Hotch thought, you don't always have to do everything by yourself. He shook his head to clear his thoughts, took a deep breath, and knocked on her door.

TBC


End file.
